


Tricky Turmoil

by Spirifer



Series: Tumultuous Times for the Weary Wanderer [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Turmoil, Gen, Reader-Insert, Zenyatta's soothing presence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spirifer/pseuds/Spirifer
Summary: Meditation is hard and you don’t even have the energy to pretend it’s effortless.





	Tricky Turmoil

**Author's Note:**

> This is a self indulgent piece I worked on when I’m not feeling too good about myself.

A jagged sigh cuts through the restful silence of the early morning, interrupting the melodic chiming of your Omnic teacher’s ornaments. Zenyatta’s lights slowly power back on, and he raises his head slightly to watch you.

What a sight you must be. Your lotus position was sloppy to begin with and your frustration has contorted your expression into something unpleasant… you feel self-conscious next to your Master’s near impeccable posture. You drop the pretense of trying to meditate and curl in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees, looking flatly out of the windows of the monastery’s sanctum. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet—and the mountains in the distance are still a dark blotch against the dawn—but it’s already looking like it will be a beautifully calm day.

If only you could say the same for yourself.

Zenyatta calls your name softly, pulling you out of your grey thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumble, shame welling up inside of you due to your inability to follow in your Master’s footsteps. You lower your gaze to the stone tiles below you, unable to meet Zenyatta’s careful gaze. You’d finally been able to settle on consistent meditation schedules with him, and here you could barely sit through it. “I just can’t seem to do it.”

“Are the chimes distracting?” Zenyatta asks calmly, completely throwing off the half-hearted excuses you had been planning.

“…What?” you swivel your head to look at the Omnic, not certain that you had heard right.

“Are the chimes distracting?” Zenyatta asks again, patiently. “Forgive me, I’ve been so accustomed to them that I don’t notice their effects.”

“I don’t… understand?”

“I’ve meditated with these,” the orbs let out a cheery little jingle at Zenyatta’s prompting, “for years. When Mondatta first had me start meditating, I found it easier to concentrate on the noise they make.”

“Yes, Master, with just a little more time, I could—” your frustrated protests are cut short by Zenyatta gently laying a hand on your head. Zenyatta runs his hand down your head to your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The soothing gesture makes your mouth snap shut, the words drying up in your throat.

“Mondatta never needed the aid,” Zenyatta continues on in his placid, gentle way. “He meditated in absolute silence in his quarters, and for a very, very long time I was convinced I would never achieve the same sense of peace as him.”

Zenyatta rises to his feet, motioning for you to do the same. You stretch out the cramps in your legs and shake out the tingly numbness in your feet. Zenyatta watches you go through the motions with approval, continuing with his message once you’ve worked out the unpleasantness with your muscles. “Compared to Mondatta, there would be a never-ending list of things I needed to do—to accomplish—just to catch up to him. In the end, we went our separate paths and I often wonder what I would have been able to do if I hadn’t tried to model myself as a second Mondatta.

“Mondatta has years of experience on me,” Zenyatta begins to stroll out of the cozy little room, waiting for you to dutifully catch up to him. “It was unfair of me to disregard my own progress just because, in my mind, it did not measure up to what Mondatta could do.”

“I… think I understand,” you murmur, bringing Zenyatta’s kind gaze onto yourself. “I shouldn’t compare myself to you so much, Master.”

Zenyatta nods, “Meditation takes practice, and we all stumble with it. There are aids to help you with it, my dear pupil, and you must learn to use and accept them. At the end of the day, even I am merely an aid—a guide—on your journey. My words, my methods, are not law.”

“I know that, and yet,” to your mortification and frustration, you find yourself tearing up. No energy to act casual about it, you scrub angrily at your eyes, “And yet I can’t help but think that no matter how much effort I put into it, I will never be as good as I want to.”

Your Omnic teacher clasps your face tenderly in his hands, bringing your foreheads together. Your uneven, ragged breathing slightly fogs up Zenyatta’s faceplate, the little spot of condensation seeming to thrum like an erratic heartbeat. “My dear, you must learn to accept progress as it comes to you. Where you want to go and where you hope to go does not erase all the meaning from where you have come from. You will improve, but it will not by any means be easy.

“But one day, you’ll open your eyes and look behind you to see all the distance you have traveled. It may not be where you had hoped to end up, but that will not make your journey any less significant.”

He stands with you, in a darkened hallway, slowly running his hands through your hair in a consistent, comforting manner. He waits with you, standing face to face with you, until your stuttered breathing finally evens out. He stays with you, allowing you to gather your nerves, as you look at him levelly.

“Master,” you take a steadying breath, “let’s return to our meditation. And… maybe this time, can we try it outside?”

In his own way, Zenyatta beams at you.


End file.
